Page 2 of Pickle
Whatever’s going on,if it’s serious enough Arlo thinks Frankie and Teeny shouldn’t be there, then it’s serious enough to get our chapter on standby. I’m unaware of anything the motherchapter’s got going on out there in Darrow, and as the prez of the TK chapter here, I sure shit should be.
On my wayout of the coffee shop, I throw a last glance over my shoulder and commit to memory as many details about the table behind me as I can. Thyrie. Silas. Protection-slash-personal-security company of some sort. It’s not much to go on, but I know just the dude to ask for help tracking her down once this shit’s taken care of.
I’m pretty surethis Thyrie chick’s the woman of my dreams. And yeah, that’s a wild thought to have based on a couple glances and one overheard conversation. But if this life has taught me anything, it’s that the only way to live is kickstand up. Ready to charge forward and take advantage of everything thrown my way.
Fate doesn’t handout second chances to those who don’t work for them. I’ve had my fair share of rebounds and do-overs and fought to make the most of every one of them. So putting in some work to track down a missed connection like this is a no-brainer. I’m already positive she’s worth the effort.
CHAPTER TWO
Thyrie Brandon
Look, I don’t think it’s arrogant to say I’m good at a lot of things. Because it’s true. I am. But what I’m absolutely balls out amazing at, is situational awareness. So yeah, I clocked the hottie sitting alone at the table behind Silas and my booth. And the way he not-as-subtly-as-he-thought eavesdropped on the conversation my best friend and business partner and I were having? Yeah, caught that, too.
“He gone or just stepped out?”Silas asks. Proving, for the billionth time, how our wavelengths are perfectly matched. Which is how we’ve come to save each other’s lives more times than either of us can count and how we know we’ll never be more than best friends. Being battle buddies prepared us for friendship. And friendship prepared us for becoming family. Silas is as close as a sibling, the only one I’ve got.
“Gone.Took his laptop and pre-bussed his table like a gentleman.” I chuckle, rushing through the gamut of mentalpictures I’d clocked when we’d passed the rough-looking biker’s table on the way in.
Something about picturingthe eavesdropping stranger in a tux and tails has my grumpiness from last night’s disappointing sexcapade fading. I don’t just sleep with men willy-nilly, and I’d known taking Bryan Johnstone to bed was a bad idea before I’d done it. Thirty-six hours into the contract with the jerk Johnstone, and I’d already decided our firm would bow out once we identified and retained a secondary company to replace ours. While Bryan’s estimation of his security needs were overly inflated, they weren’t completely manufactured.
The guy was an ass,no mistaking it, but my dry-spell had hit critical levels, and what he offered seemed good enough to satisfy the itch. Mediocre sex is like pizza. Even when it’s only mid, it’s still good.
“Who’s steppingin to take on Johnstone?” Silas asks.
Now that ourlisteny-loo is gone, we can get into the real crux of the convo. Of course, we’d never publicly discuss anything that could put a client at risk. But this? Bryan Johnstone’s just an overgrown manchild with more money than sense. His only real threat is the risk of society discovering what a prickasaurus he is behind his public-facing facade.
“The Purcel Group,”I admit.
“You hate Levi Purcel.”
My chest will always puffwith pride when Silas laughs. All the shit we’ve been through, survived, endured is only a tip of a fucked-up iceberg my best friend has gone through. Seeing him smile and find fun in silly shit, like my rivalry with Levi Purcel, gives me hope that one day we can both get past the barriers of pasts and each find happiness.
“Yeah.What can I say? I’m a benevolent goddess. I have taketh from Purcel often enough. This time, I giveth.” I wait for Silas to wipe the tears of laughter from his eyes before I continue. “Giveth headaches, earaches, and pride-aches. I am such an absolute giver. Truly.”
Even I can’t keepthe serious expression on my face, especially knowing Silas isn’t harboring any anger at me for costing Sentrify, our company, a valuable contract. We’ve only been in business for about four years—young by industry standards. Still, I can’t bring myself to regret sending a problematic client to a problematic man from my past.
“I don’t blame you,but we do need to replace Johnstone’s case. We’ve got subcontractors lined up, so we ought to make use of that.”
“Since we’re committedto paying them either way, it’ll be much better to line up a principal for them to guard,” I agree. I hate this part of being a business owner.
Running numbers,scheduling things, managing human and material resources. It all sucks, but the alternative is being the face of the company. Early on, we learned wooing prospectiveclients isn’t my forte. My looks give clients the wrong idea about the services we offer, and my lack of filter when it comes to their often ridiculous priorities created a lot of problems in our early days. Letting Silas handle the peopling just makes sense.
“Don’t worry,I know exactly the alternate project for the subs. You remember that older couple who asked us to arrange an escort team for them to transport their art and valuables to their grandchildren in advance of selling their estate and moving into a senior living community?” That’s Silas, always three steps ahead.
I’d forgotten allabout Valerie and Hank Ronson. Their short detail is exactly what we need to fill the hours freed up by losing Johnstone. Bonus being, some of the grandkids live down the coast in SoCal, so delivering their inheritance means being able to escape the rainy spring that’s a hallmark of the Pacific Northwest.
“Sweet!You’ll call and let them know we have time for their trip this week?” Inexplicably, the image of the man from earlier comes back to me, and I realize this trip will make it less likely I’ll be able to arrange a accidental-on-purpose run in with him anytime soon. Shame, really. He had an ass that filled his worn out denims so well my fingers actually ached to grab onto it while being pounded into the mattress.
“We?Nice try. You’re sitting this one out, Romeo-ette. The last thing we need is that grandson Ms. Ronson’s already convinced would be perfect to set you up with actually seeing how right his nana is about your looks. We don’t need any moreclient scandals. Besides, you can work on the quarterly taxes.” Silas smirks, and I realize he’s actually still pissed about the whole broken-coccyx-client thing.
“Fine.I know when I’m beat. At least, bring back some of that salsa I like from that little bodega in San Francisco. Yeah?” It won’t be the same as actually being there, but I guess I deserve being stuck behind.
Besides,now I’ve got time to track down the hottie from earlier without Silas around to clam jam me. I sigh dramatically, as though being stuck here while he gets to jaunt down the coast is a real let down. What he doesn’t know won’t hurt him, and if I play my cards right, it could make Thyrie a very, very happy girl.
CHAPTER THREE
Pickle
The trip to Darrow usually takes about an hour and a half. Today I make it in an hour flat. Fear will light a fire under a man’s ass like nothing else. I think I spent more time pulling my truck out of the garage, doublechecking that Teeny’s car seat is still properly installed, and gassing up than I actually did on the road.
